A very fine artist...

ROGER ROBLES

I met Roger nearly 20 years ago when I lived part-time in Rancho Mirage. He was friends with my wife at the time and came to look at my illustration work for a children’s book. We instantly hit it off as he candidly offered some painting tips to me. It was obvious he knew what he was talking about so I incorporated his suggestions into my work. I still use his techniques to this day.

Later I visited him in his home in Palm Springs and saw his painting and his incredible photography. It was all brilliant and I realize he was a master at both. We’ve remained friends ever since. “I tried to interview him a few times to no avail. However, I persisted and here we are.”

Here’s our interview...

When did you first think about what you wanted to do as an adult? Were you encouraged or discouraged by family, friends, teachers, mentors?

As with most people, something in childhood clicks showing us a path to follow. I am a firm believer in determinism -- we really don’t have the free-will that we think we do and our future is not in our control. Our subconscious is writing a script and we are trapped as actors to play out the part we’re given. One’s destiny is pre-determined by genetics and all other limitations and advantages. The actor has to perform, the artist has to paint, the writer has to write, and the mountain-climber has to reach the summit. Successful people have aligned themselves with their abilities, their inner voice, and the talent for identifying opportunities. I could do two hours on regrets. With hindsight, I can look back at lost moments that might have changed my life, for better or worse. But I just don’t believe it all could have been any different, we can only play the hand we are dealt. We eventually receive all the things we desire.

As a teenager, my parents said I could paint my bedroom any color I wanted, so ultra-white and empty walls was how the boy-cave turned out. It looked like a set from John Frankenheimer’s Seconds 1966. (Rock Hudson told me this was his favorite acting job and he wished more dark roles had been offered to him.) Having his brain scrambled with a hand-drill was a memorable exit.

So yes, I did receive limited encouragement but I’m not sure it made a difference in who I am today. My father used to tell me that I would end up digging ditches for a living. So now, every time I have to trench for landscape irrigation on my property or dig a footing for a wall, I think of him! How did he know?

What kind of kid were you? Where did you grow up? What were your influences?

I grew up in Nutley, NJ, a beautiful little town twenty minutes from the NYC museums. It was the home of Martha Stewart, Robert Blake, Jacqueline Kennedy’s grandparents, Annie Oakley and Frank Butler (1892-1904). I had an excellent public school education, far better than anything today, but they were civilized times. I received a BA from UCLA where I studied photography with Edmond Teske who was at the center of the avant-garde photography movement in Los Angeles. His circle of modernist pioneers included Man Ray, Paul Strand, Laszlo Moholy-Nagy, and Berenice Abbott. I never bought into California culture probably because I am a contrarian by nature and hated to identify with groups. But I guess L.A. was the best fit and only option for my interests. After graduation, my parents sold their house in NJ and moved to Taos, NM; I found the artificiality of Hollywood far more grounding and irresistible. This place where illusion and reality blur to meet the needs of every misfit and wannabe probably had room for me. I think I knew early on that I needed something more than the bland traditions of a quiet and safe New Jersey life. L.A. certainly provided an array of crazies who arrived daily by the busload. Even though I rarely participated in the wild lifestyle, the parade was fun to watch. Movie stars came with the territory and I found their delicious insincerity entertaining. But many were also very kind and generous.

When I was twelve, my discovery of celebrity glamour photography was a stack of George Hurrell fan photos that my mother collected. With focused lighting and high resolution 8x10 format, the images had a depth and luminosity that I had never seen before. I instantly new this was something I wanted to do. There was no one around to teach me the technical skills, so I figured it out on my own. I persuaded my parents to buy me a used 8x10 view camera with a Commercial Ektar lens. I built a darkroom and little studio in the attic of our house and enlisted classmates for photo sessions. I was up and running. The small fee I charged barely paid for materials, but the learning experience was invaluable.

Tell us how your background played a part in your ending up in the art and photography world?

I don’t think there was ever any question that some form of image making would be in my future. The challenge was to find an outlet for monetizing my abilities. I loved shooting portraits and got to be fairly competent -- -- by trial and error I was completely self-taught. I also painted portraits. Art was heavily featured in my house; my oldest brother, Julian Robles, was a successful painter and my mother was an artist as well. There was always an art project in progress somewhere under our roof competing with family functions. Just by osmosis, I seemed to absorb the creative vibe.

In high school I was voted most talented, but all the compliments and praise evaporated when I got out into the real world to find I was just another struggling Joe Schmoe. My first job after college was in the property development department of United California Bank . For one year I suffered the tedious banking bureaucrats.

I had my own private office but knew this was only a temporary gig to get my footing for something with more meaning. It was so difficult to get fired; I came in late every day until they finally got the message. One of the executives took me to lunch, he was almost in tears -- it was the first time he had to release an employee. But for me, it was like getting out of jail. It’s funny how things fall into place at the right time. As I’ve said, we are definitely not in control of our future. A wealthy friend suggested that I paint his portrait. I gave him a fair price, but I would have painted him for free if I had known that portrait was going to unlock all kinds of opportunities. His canvas was a springboard for a network of commissions that kept me busy painting for the next thirty years. I was commuting to Chicago and New York for work on a regular basis doing portraits of society people, industrialists, and celebrities. The money was much better than just shooting photos. One of my paintings of Ann Landers is in the permanent collection of the National Portrait Gallery at the Smithsonian in DC. Another oil portrait I did of Sir Georg Solti hangs in Orchestra Hall in Chicago.

You are a master in both photography and painting. Do you consider yourself a photographer or a fine artist (painter)? Why?

My vocation is divided into three equal parts: 1. I am a portrait and landscape artist. 2. I am a portrait, product, and fashion photographer. 3. I have a recording library and sell audio transfers (mostly to Sony Music). I own one of the most significant private 78rpm record collections in the US specializing in vintage jazz and historical popular music. I have recordings that record companies no longer physically own, so they hire me to supply soundtracks for CD reissues and Internet streaming. Here’s a link to my YouTube channel that demonstrates the kind of music I have: https://www. youtube.com/user/Prozoot/videos I get easily bored with a steady diet of one pursuit, so I bounce back and forth to keep things fresh and interesting. I’ll be heavily engaged in photography and see a wonderful piece of art, and be instantly inspired to return to painting. Each is a vacation from the other.

Your photography harkens back to the masters of Hollywood’s Golden Era. Why is that? It’s seems intentional.

That period of high glamour was the template for modern fashion photography and advertising. Of course, I admire Hurrell, Clarence Bull, Ernest Bachrach and many other great Hollywood gallery photographers but, for me, the real stars of that period were Edward Steichen, Hoyningen-Huene, Cecil Beaton, and Horst, who all shot for Vogue. They beautifully integrated Continental sophistication with society glamour and fine art photography. My work is highly derivative and I usually ask subjects to bend to a more timeless look. The objective is to capture people at their best moment; I love making subjects look fantastic. I don’t mind seeing grit and grunge in a good photo, but that’s not something I care to do. Clients usually tell me that it’s the best picture they have ever had taken -- and that’s what I like to hear. Harsh reality is everywhere and that seems to be the popular trend in today’s photography. I want to take people to another place where they are idealized.

How has modern technology affected your work (painting and photography)? Have you adapted or are you staying “old school?”

The style that I sell is unashamedly “old school” -- no apologies. An art director once told me to pigeonhole my photography, keep it as unique and identifiable as possible and when vintage glamour is required, my name should be first in the queue. That approach has always worked for me. As far as technology, I stay up to date on the last minute of advancements in camera evolution. I’m an equipment junkie and love reading technical stuff. This is a particularly exciting time for photography. New mirror-less full-frame and medium format cameras have taken the industry by storm with a bewildering selection of features all designed to make shooting pictures foolproof. Cameras today are, basically, nothing more than a computer with a lens. Never before has bad photography looked so good!

Tell us about your microphone collection. How did that start and where are you with it now?

I currently have a moratorium on microphone acquisitions. For a while, they were multiplying like rabbits. As with most hobbies, or addictions, the collecting bug bites hard and it can be difficult to refuse these magical machine-age beauties. My collection starts with the first Western Electric condenser from 1924 -- only three are known to survive (Even the Smithsonian doesn’t have one). Another rarity is the RCA Photophone PB-17, the first ribbon microphone

from 1931. This was a breakthrough technology that enabled startling realism in sound recording. It was the gold standard for the following thirty years.

The first microphones I purchased were intended to be used only as props for publicity photos. I soon became fascinated with the history and technology behind their development. The art deco and streamlined designs are quite wonderful and I think of them as sculpture. They are displayed in my sound room and I never tire of seeing them. They continue to serve as authentic and highly visual props for musicians.

You moved to the desert years ago. How has that affected you artistically?

I bought my house in Ranch Mirage in 1995 and only regret that I didn’t come to the desert sooner. L.A. was getting too nasty; the constant gridlock and congestion with hostile grasping people were starting to wear me down. Even now, when I have to drive into the city for business, I count the minutes until I can return home. I live in paradise -- this should be illegal!

As I drive into the Coachella Valley, I can feel my blood pressure dropping and a sense of calm washes over me. The people who live here are happy and friendly. They are here because they want to be, not because they have to be. Before the economy crashed, I was shooting for Palm Springs Life Mag. A lot of clients don’t mind coming to the desert for a photo session -- after all, it is a resort destination. Last year, a couple flew in from London for photos. Of course, Covid has frozen my creative ambitions for the moment, as with everyone else. So, I am currently all dressed up and no place to go. I can’t wait for the vaccinations to be fully circulated so we can all come back to life. To excel in anything it takes a fair amount of obsession. One has to more than want a career, it has to be an intense focus that will redirect all energy and interest to you and what you offer. To be brutal, it is an exercise in solipsism -- casual dabbling will not bring you success. The arts have become so highly competitive that unless one is willing to put their craft ahead of everything else, the rewards are small. Finding luck is the most difficult part -- you know the old saying: “I’d rather be lucky than be good.” Well, I don’t want to be totally cynical, but most of the journey is completely out of our control. The best one can do is prepare well and strike like a snake when the opportunity shows itself. We all get a certain number of chances. I have squandered moments only because I didn’t recognize potential that was staring me in the face. That is were talent comes into play. I have friends with a “Midas touch” -- they always make the right business decision, at every turn. It’s a gift.

The old cliché of never giving up really works -- eventually, your number is called. I can think of several extremely average and even bad photographers and artists who command huge fees and are celebrated. These people are relentless, they are indestructible and always ignore criticism. They forge ahead with complete belief in themselves. After a while, critics, collectors, art directors, galleries, publishers, and influencers start to fall for the sham. The “suits” really want what is trending -- it doesn’t have to brilliant, as long as it fits the moment. The fact is, very few decision-makers have a truly refined sense of aesthetics and taste.

What do or did you do to promote yourself? What other exciting projects are you working on now?

I am the worst at self-promotion. I always feel that if my images can’t speak for themselves, how am I supposed to convince people to like them? Here’s where a good art rep is worth his/her weight in gold. Someone who is articulate and connected can work wonders pushing a portfolio to the right channels. They really earn their commission and the high-quality, high-paying jobs that might be found can dovetail into lucrative long-term contracts. As long as one feels the agent is devoting the proper attention and time to circulate the images, a degree of patience is needed. But if it starts to look like a dead-end, move on. There is a bottom line for everyone involved -- if the work is not getting responses, no one makes money and it’s time for some changes in the product. Always stay flexible and never fall in love www.theillustratorsjournal.comwith your own work -- everything can be improved.

PAINTING BY ROGER ROBLES